


Not Quite Dead or Dying

by notmadderred



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Fratt Week, Gen, M/M, Prompt: Bone, Some Mild Dumbassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: “Oh, God. Oh,God!"Matt said. “I’mdying!"“You aren’t dying,” Frank said, perhaps for the hundredth time. At this point, it was rather hopeless, but he still found himself repeating that adage despite the fact Matt would only continue making such proclamations within five minutes.“Oh? Oh, I’m not? Oh, good. Oh, God. I was so worried. Thanks. Thank you, Frank. Oh, no.”
Relationships: Frank Castle & David "Micro" Lieberman, Frank Castle & Matt Murdock, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 10
Kudos: 174
Collections: Fratt Week





	Not Quite Dead or Dying

“Oh, God. Oh, _God_!” Matt said. “I’m _dying_!”

“You aren’t dying,” Frank said, perhaps for the hundredth time. At this point, it was rather hopeless, but he still found himself repeating that adage despite the fact Matt would only continue making such proclamations within five minutes.

“Oh? Oh, I’m not? Oh, good. Oh, God. I was so worried. Thanks. Thank you, Frank. Oh, no.”

Frank sighed.

Matt’s head whipped around. The glasses were dropped on the way here and not particularly worth retrieving after Matt had stepped on them right after they were swiped off his nose. “Wait,” he said. “Wait wait wait.”

Surely, Micro was tracking him down right now. As he was, attempting to get out was fruitless without any weapons or lockpicks, and his eyes’ adjustment to the darkness only told him that this pseudo-cave had a steel door trapping him with the lawyer. “What, Murdock.”

“I’m dying, aren’t I.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You just… ain’t feeling well.”

Matt’s expression went slack. “What? How did you know?”

Frank closed his eyes. For someone with their shin sticking out their skin, the bone snapped clean in two, Matt was doing fairly well. Besides the ‘I’m dying’ thing, but Frank suspected that was unrelated to the pain of the injury but rather a sense of dread and panic his brain couldn’t make sense of. Frank had seen the likes of it before. Maybe Matt had, too; but the severe concussion was making things a bit more convoluted for him, by the looks of it.

Frank, for one, was not about to inform Matt about that shin thing. “‘Cuz you keep complaining about dyin’.”

“That makes sense. Good argument. It… it would hold up in court.”

“Sure it would.”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“I know that.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause as Matt seemingly considered this. Then, “Are you God? Because you seem to know many things.”

Frank opened his eyes and gave Matt a long look. The effect, as anticipated, was lost on the other man. “Am I God,” he parrotted flatly.

Matt squinted, apparently also for effect, given that his eyes were landing nowhere near Frank. “Your voice… sounds like how God would sound.”

Fucking Christ. “That so.”

“Oh. Oh, no. I’m in trouble.”

“I’m not God.”

“I’m sorry,” said Matt, eyebrows curving inwards in what looked like dramatized distress. “I was complaining about dying to God.”

“Still not God.”

“Shit. Wait, shit, sorry, I… am I allowed to curse? Seeing as I’m talking to you directly, I may as well ask--”

“I don’t give a fuck,” said Frank, “because I’m not God.” His own head was throbbing, but that was something he’d gotten used to over time. His inventory on other wounds didn't note anything too serious, so his priority would have to be the lawyer.

“I’m not upset about dying. But, uh, I guess you know that because of the all-knowing thing.”

Frank decided he preferred Matt complaining about dying. “Murdock, shut the fuck up.” At Matt’s blank look, he continued, “If you’re gonna talk to God, ask the guy to get us out of here.”

“Can you get us out of here?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“I think that’s a no.”

“ _Murdock_ \--”

“Um, maybe I should confess before I die. That feels right. I always thought I’d just die alone.”

Frank winced. Well, shit. Now this was uncomfortable. “Matt. You don’t--”

“Sorry for impersonating the devil. I think that mostly covers it.” He tilted his head. “Pretty broad umbrella, that.”

Or Matt was too delusional to make this truly uncomfortable. “Right. All’s forgiven. You can not-die in peace.”

“Can you do me a favor, God?”

“Probably not.”

“Frank Castle is a pretty good guy. I think he needs a hug. Can you give him one?”

This was embarrassing, maybe. Frank wasn’t exactly sure. “Is this a joke?”

“Is my tibia sticking out of my leg?”

Frank sighed. “No. Unless you see it sticking out, it’s definitely not sticking out.”

“But I’m blind.”

“Exactly.”

“What if I use radar to see it?”

“Are you a bat or somethin’?”

“I’m better than a bat.” Matt puffed out his chest. “I’m Daredevil!”

“Okay, Daredevil,” said Frank. That fracture looked bad, but it wasn’t going to kill Matt. The head injury was more concerning. Hopefully he didn't have any internal bleeding. “You figured a way out yet with your ninja powers?”

“They’re not ninja powers, and you know that,” said Matt, a tad defensively. “And also, you’re God, so you’re just as capable of getting out of here.”

“Mm,” said Frank. He didn't see blood in Matt’s hair, but that only meant so much. It was still dark, as was Matt’s hair. “So just normal ninja activities for you.”

“Well, not _normal_ normal. I’m still _blind_.”

“That would make being Daredevil a bit abnormal. How d’ya do it?”

“Why is God interrogating me before I die? Is this a test?”

“I ain’t God, Murdock. I’m still Frank.”

“Ohhh, God in the appearance of Frank.” Matt’s spine straightened minutely. “This is a second chance. That’s what this is.”

For fuck’s sake, it’d been, what? Thirty minutes? What the hell was taking so long? “Second chance at what? You did what ya could in court, Murdock.”

“‘S not what I meant,” Matt retorted. His speech was starting to slur, and Frank came to attention. “You’re not bad, y’know. Well, Frank Frank’s not bad.”

“Thanks,” Frank offered, shifting as forward as he could to watch Matt’s head begin to drop. “Hey. Who said you could sleep?”

“I wanna sleep.”

“That’s too bad, Murdock.”

“I don’... get much sleep.”

“And you’ll get plenty when you’re in the hospital.” Frank probably wouldn’t be able to see the lawyer there himself -- not unless he wanted trouble with the police, that is.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“Nobody likes hospitals.”

“... I’ll break outta the hospital.”

“I don’t really see that happenin’ for ya.”

Matt’s head made a small circle. “Where am I? I’m… hm. I’m not feeling great. Am I underground? I feel underground.”

How does a person ‘feel’ underground? “Think so. I wasn’t so focused on where we were goin’.” Instead, he was taking care of Matt, making sure he didn't get injured or beaten up further. 

Matt sniffed the air, and Frank had a briefly cut thought of _Red_ before squashing the resulting feelings and saying, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Sniffing. Why the hell are you sniffing?”

“It’s helpful.”

“ _How?_ ”

“I can’t remember right now. But it is. Why haven’t I died yet?”

“‘Cuz you ain’t dying.”

“But I feel so weird.”

Frank rolled his eyes, muttering a low, “No shit.”

“Huh, what? What’s that mean? What’s wrong?”

He squinted. “What? Sensitive ears?”

“Wait, wait. Oh. I’m definitely dying.”

Not this shit again. “Matthew Murdock--”

“I really prefer it when you call me ‘Red.’”

Frank stared at Matt. He didn't remember ever calling him Red. He also didn't remember telling anyone that he called Daredevil ‘Red.’

To be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if Matt knew Red’s identity. Furthermore, he wouldn’t be surprised if Matt had preemptively set himself up as Red’s lawyer in case things went awry for the guy. “You don’t remember some guys givin’ you any chemicals, do you?” he said. Maybe Matt’s delusions were a subset of something more severe than a concussion. In that case, he may have to improvise their way out of here.

“Uhhhh… when? Pretty sure there’s a… few instances of that happening. I think.”

“Jesus,” he said.

“But recently? I don’t think so. Uh… good question.” Matt scratched his head.

Frank froze as Matt sighed and pulled some hair. “Murdock,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“How the hell did you get out of your handcuffs?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I can do that. Daredevil stuff. Well, not really, seeing as it’s a more recent trick, but--”

“Fucking _hell_ , Murdock! How long have you been out?”

“Uhhhh--”

“Nevermind, just--” Frank grunted and took a breath. “Try to crawl over here. Be careful. Get me out of these, and I’ll get us outta here. Okay?”

“Um, I can probably get myself out of here just fine. Daredevil stu--”

“Try standin’ up and say that again.” Fuck, Matt was acting like a child. Even his tone was turning petulant. “Don’t, actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t stand up.”

“You want me to stand up?”

“I just said _don’t_.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… fine. Crawl over here, okay?”

“I can probably do that, but there’s one minor snag.”

Frank decided he hated this. “And what’s that.”

“My tibia’s sticking out of my leg.”

Well, shit.

“And I think it’s starting to hurt.”

_Shit._ “Don’t think ‘bout it.” Maybe not the best advice to give a civilian, but these were extenuating circumstances. “Crawl over here while your adrenaline’s still goin’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said. “I just gotta close my eyes first.”

“Don’t close your eyes.”

“Taking orders isn’t my kink, sorry.”

Frank tried not to choke. “That’s not what I was saying,” he continued, his tone perfectly even. “I said to--”

Lights bounced off the walls, one eventually landing on Frank’s face. He drew his features tight and put up his hand. “Jesus fucking Chri--”

“Frank! Oh, thank God you aren’t dead. I got worried there. What’s--”

That light joined the other in landing on Matt.

Micro wretched. Then he threw up. “Oh, fuck, I’m--” He wretched once more. “Ohmy _God_ \--”

“That bad?” said Matt.

“Worse,” said Foggy in a flat, angry tone Frank wasn’t familiar with. “You’re going to a hospital. No objections.”

“I thought I was dying,” said Matt. “God said I wasn’t, but if I wasn’t, why’s he here?”

“Matt, that’s Frank Castle,” said Foggy, and Micro’s attention was back on Frank, his face stuck in a wince as he clumsily pulled out a set of lockpicks. 

“Just gimme a sec,” said Micro.

“God,” Foggy continued. “I can’t believe you-- what even happened! Why are you two together like this!”

“Maybe save the questions for later,” Frank said as Micro undid the locks, leaving the handcuffs to clack to the floor. “Murdock needs a hospital. Hit his head pretty hard. Maybe drugged. Not sure.”

“I just-- _how did this happen!_ You two are-- you’re the Punisher! Who was it that got the upper hand against you?”

“Funny you say hand,” said Matt. “Because it was the Hand.”

“Matty, you can’t--”

Frank stood up, walked over to Matt, and hauled him up. Matt grunted before immediately clinging his arms around Frank’s neck. Frank had to force himself not to smile. “I’ll get ‘im out of here. Up to you to take him to the hospital.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Foggy, looking annoyed. “I’m used to it by now.”

Frank cocked his head minutely. What? “... Right. I’m gonna need you two to lead the way out.”

“Got it,” said Micro, nodding once. He shared a look with Foggy. “And, uh, sorry about your friend. I had no idea there was a civilian in--”

“It’s not your fault,” said Foggy. “Let’s just…get him out of here.”

Frank tightened his hold on Matt, ignoring the way his chest jumped as Matt hissed in pain and clenched the nape of his neck. “You’re gonna be fine, Murdock,” he muttered.

As Micro began to lead the way out, Frank could feel Matt nod tightly against him.

\-----

Frank would be lying if he said he wasn’t suspicious.

It had been a little over three months, and he’d seen neither head nor tails of Red. Considering they’d been partnering up roughly twice every week until now, this was… concerning. But he didn't like to push these things.

Besides, there could be a simple answer. Maybe Red was dead.

Frank breathed in through his teeth and closed his eyes. Best… not to think like that.

Yeah. Instead he was going with the other option. There was probably a better way of going about this, but he’d worry about that later. If ever.

He stepped into the offices of Nelson and Murdock. The front desk was empty, a small sign stating, “Lunch break, be back soon” in Karen’s handwriting.

“Hello?” came Matt’s voice. “Did someone come in?”

Frank didn't see Foggy around, either. “Yeah, Murdock.”

“Frank?” There was the rather distinct sound of crutches plucking against the floor before Matt came into view, his brows furrowed. He must’ve gotten new glasses. Same style, by the looks of it. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to… well, since you’re here, I may as well thank you.” Matt put on a small grin and put his weight wholly on the right crutch. “Foggy told me that you helped rescue me from the Hand. Or something like that.”

Frank studied Matt. Matt shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, are you--”

“You don’t remember any of it?” Frank interrupted.

Matt winced. “Uh, no, actually. The concussion was… bad. To put it lightly. Why?”

“How’s the leg holdin’ up.”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Matt’s features screwed in briefly, and he added in a bitter tone, “I still have a few more months of the cast, though.”

“Yeah. Figured that’d be tough on you. Must be hard not bein’ able to move around like you’re used to.”

“Well, I figured I’m mostly fine in the office. I know my way around, and if I’m certain, I’ll use a crutch as a cane.” He offered a rueful smile. “I work with what I have.”

Frank stuck his hands in his pockets. “You sure do, Red.”

In what may have been a tell -- Frank wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t gonna let himself hope -- Matt’s expression didn't change at all. “That’s a new nickname,” he said.

Frank grunted. “‘S’what ya told me you preferred being called when concussed.”

“I… don’t remember. It’s… any idea why I said that? I was probably out--”

“Out of it, yeah. Figured you’d say that.” Frank sniffed to hide the beginnings of a grin. “You said a lotta things concussed.”

“Um…” Matt shifted.

“You felt the need to tell me you were a lawyer, for one.”

“... Of course I did.”

Frank nodded and took a step closer. “You also thought I was God. That was interesting.”

Matt pursed his lips. “It was because of your voice, wasn’t it?”

Frank didn't say anything.

“I just gave myself away there, didn't I?”

“Depends what you think you just gave away.”

“Right. Well. I suppose…” He cleared his throat and straightened himself between the crutches. “As you can see, I’m doing mostly fine. So… thanks again. And thank you for checking in.”

“That you dismissin’ me, Red?”

Matt swallowed, and his face turned slightly pink. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

Frank shrugged. “Yeah.”

Matt stared in his direction. “And?”

Frank took another step. “You tell me.”

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed inward, and he opened his mouth once before closing it. Then, finally, “I didn't just tell you I was a lawyer, did I?”

“Nah, Red,” Frank said. He could hear his own smile. “You didn't.”

Matt’s cheeks flushed further. “Ah, uh. Do you want to remind me what it is I said?”

“You holdin’ onto multiple secrets from me?”

“If I said no, would you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Invading my personal space.”

Frank nodded tightly, but still didn't move. “You don’t appreciate it.”

“That’s not-- I wasn’t-- well. Fuck. Guess I know which secret it was, then.”

Frank squinted. Admittedly, he wasn’t completely following where Matt was chasing his tail at, but it seemed to be accomplishing something. “Mm.”

“Is this your messed up way of saying you feel the same way?”

There was a brief silence. Frank broke it with a, “Not sure what you’re talkin’ about, but you told me you’re Red.”

Another silence. “Oh,” said Matt, almost sounding disappointed. “Yeah. There’s that. I guess you’d start to actually believe it after three months of Daredevil being MIA.”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Congratulations,” Matt drawled. “You are person number who-the-fuck-knows to figure it out. I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you aren’t going to tell anyone, seeing as you’re technically dead. Or was that last year? It’s hard to keep track.”

Frank took a half-step back and lifted his brows. “You gettin’ pissy at me? What’s that about?”

“Nothing,” Matt rebuked. “I’m not upset.”

“That so? You’re startin’ to look a little upset there.”

Red took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Frank. _Now_ have you said what you wanted? I do still have a day job to take care of, after all.”

“Another pro bono case?”

“Does it matter?”

Frank gave him a long look. “Nah, Red. Guess it doesn’t. Take care.”

As he turned on his heel and left the office, he could hear the small whisper of Red’s, “God dammit.”

\-----

“I thought it would take at least eight months for you to be back on your feet,” Frank said, eye still at the scope as Red approached from behind him. He knew enough to recognize that Red was only letting him hear the approach, but that didn't mean he’d have to acknowledge it. “It was an ugly break.”

“Then it’s for the best I don’t remember it,” Red replied with what sounded like forced humor. 

Frank still faced forward. “Didn't act like it. You never complained. Shit like that happen to you before?”

“You could say that.” Red moved to the spot next to him, tapping the ceiling ledge twice. “You missed a bit when you were underground. A building fell on top of me.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Oh, it certainly was.” Red, in a single, seamless motion, perched onto the ledge, leaving his feet to dangle off the side. “You haven’t been killing people while I’ve been gone.”

“Ain’t a favor to you, Red.” Frank looked toward him. “And you should be takin’ it easy. Go home and sleep.”

“You aren’t up to much tonight. What -- you just don’t want my company?”

“Nah, I just know you’ll hear somethin’ and run towards it.”

“I won’t do that.”

“Good,” said Frank. “Then you’re welcome here.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Frank sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What?”

“Tell me what’s--”

“No, I heard you.” Red turned his mask toward Frank. “My hearing is quite good, actually.”

“I figured. You said you’re better than a bat.”

“Bats aren’t blind,” Red said sourly. “And what are you looking at, anyway? The scope isn’t--”

“My apartment,” Frank offered. He smiled and sat back. “Max has been causin’ trouble when I’m gone. I’m tryna figure out what his Houdini ass is pullin’.”

“Couldn’t you just use cameras?”

“This is more interesting,” said Frank. “Cheaper, too.”

“What if you accidentally shoot the dog?”

Frank gave Red a look.

“You know I can’t see that, right?”

Frank couldn’t help the small huff of laughter. “Ain’t gonna shoot Max. And you never answered the question.”

“It wasn’t so much a question as a demand.”

“Mm. I’m not great at asking questions. That’s your thing.”

The corner of Red’s mouth quirked up. “Right. I…” He shifted, starting to look uncomfortable. “Nothing’s _wrong_.”

“Maybe. But something definitely ain’t _right_ , if you’re gonna try to get technical.” Part of him wanted to touch Red’s shoulder, and the other part of him was worried that would startle him enough for him to topple off the side of the building.

“You want to argue with me on the basis of technicalities?”

“Absolutely not.”

Red’s head whipped back with a sharp laugh, and Frank was left with a sudden lurching feeling, and he grinned as he looked back into the scope. 

Red cleared his throat. “Ah. But, yeah. Something was bothering me.”

“Well, another three months of pouting must’a done you a favor if you’re willin’ to talk now.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Red snapped. “Asshole.”

“I’m just messin’ with you.”

“I know. I… Frank?”

There was that feeling again. He took a deep breath and turned to face Red fully. “What, Red?”

“You know I like you, right?”

“So ya haven’t just been a begrudgin’ partner trying to stop me from killing people?”

“Well, that, but--”

“I like you too, Red.” He tried to make the sincerity clear in his tone. “You ain’t half-bad.”

Red did a small nod. “Thanks. You… uh. How about… if you aren’t too busy with watching Max, we--”

“You’re right,” Frank interrupted, sighing. “I’d better just stay with ‘im myself.”

“Oh.”

“I know you’re a fancy lawyer and all that, but you’re free to come with. Unless you’re allergic to dogs.”

“I’m-- oh! Right, I… I’m not allergic to dogs.”

Frank smirked. “Then wanna come with?”

“I feel like I should tell you that when I said I liked you, I meant that--”

“I know what you meant, Red. Now d’ya wanna meet the dog or not?”

Red huffed. “Fine, Frank. I’ll meet the dog. I do need to rest my leg.”

“Yeah. Max’ll be really helpful with that.” A wave of something like relief swept through Frank. “Then let’s be on our way. If you’d like, you can hook your arm through mine, seein’ as you’re blind. 

“Real funny, Frank.”

“I like to think I’m funny.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> *collapses into a coma*


End file.
